


Love, Luck, and Good Looks

by ladyofsilverdawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Banter, Body Worship, Complete, Fairy Tale Elements, Friends to Lovers, Humor, Jealous Harry Potter, Jealous Severus Snape, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Harry Potter, Oblivious Severus Snape, Resolved Sexual Tension, Secret Snarry Swap 2019, Sexual Tension, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:47:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21632422
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofsilverdawn/pseuds/ladyofsilverdawn
Summary: For hundreds of years, the Prince family has suffered from a never-ending secret: the Grimm Curse, which has stolen the beauty and luck of countless Prince descendants. The only way Snape can, once and for all, break the ancient spell is to locate his soulmate and share with them a true-love kiss.Of course, Harry has to help when he finds out.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Severus Snape
Comments: 61
Kudos: 1154
Collections: Secret Snarry Swap19, Severus Snape - Villains





	Love, Luck, and Good Looks

**Author's Note:**

> So much love, MyFirstistheFourth! (((Hugs))) Thank you! ♥ And to the mods, tons of appreciation for your dedication to this ship and fest.
> 
> Prompt: No. 17 from ladyofsilverdawn (see summary for prompt.)

_Hiss_ …

That shouldn’t be happening.

 _Sputter._ “Shit—”

 _BOOM_!

* * *

Groaning, Severus opens his eyes to find himself sprawled on the floor.

“Dammit.”

With a pained grunt, he sits up and sees a small cloud of orange smoke expanding above his workstation.

Severus exhales a long sigh. At least he’s only been unconscious for a few seconds—this time.

Searching the floor for his wand, Severus finds it a few feet away. He hurriedly retrieves it, then turns to face the disaster that is his latest potion.

A dense block of smoke now appears trapped in what seems to be a giant fish tank but, in actuality, is the Emergency-Containment Charm that surrounds his worktable. On the containment’s walls, clumps of neon-pink slime are somehow managing to eat away at its magic.

Severus purses his lips. Interesting. Though not remotely close to the dragon’s-fire guard he aimed to create. Still, whatever he's accidentally concocted might have its uses. He’ll need to make a note in his journal and—

Someone knocks on the door.

“Master Severus? I thought I heard an explosion. Are you still alive?”

Severus rolls his eyes. As talented and insightful as his Apprentice may be, sometimes he wants to permanently curse his mouth shut. “Yes, Draco. Stop acting like a frightened child and get in here.”

Draco opens the door. Rushing to Severus’s side, he notices the weakening state of the containment spell. He lifts his eyebrows and softly whistles. “What do you need me to do?”

Severus grimaces. He wishes he could get samples of the smoke and potion, but it’s too risky. “As soon as I bring down the spell, Vanish everything, including the worktable.”

Draco glances at the thick smoke he knows is obscuring a rare cutting of Dragon-Snout Orchid and an expensive ruby-tipped stirring rod. “Everything?”

Lifting his wand, Severus nods. “The potion is too volatile. We can’t take any chances.”

Severus focuses on the worsening scene in front of him: Fissures have formed in the shield, and one is discharging a plume of smoke. With a downward flourish, he begins the wandwork to release the protection charm.

Immediately after Severus succeeds, Draco swishes his wand and confidently says, “ _Evanesco_.”

The workstation and everything on it disappears, and Severus feels the knot inside his stomach loosen. He casts a diagnostic spell to ensure there are no lingering toxins in the air. He also checks the secondary protections surrounding the laboratory.

Once he’s satisfied, Severus walks past where his worktable once stood to the reading chair in the corner. He sits down and rests his head on the back cushion, closing his eyes. “It’s going to take the better part of a day to recraft my workstation, even longer to replace everything that was lost. Longbottom said it would take at least six months to cultivate the orchid.”

Draco takes a seat on the adjacent sofa. “Severus, are you sure you should continue to experiment? This is the fifth accident so far this month. The curse is getting worse, incidents more frequent. It’s becoming dangerous.”

Severus snorts. “I don’t see how things are any more dangerous now than they were in the past.” He picks up the bottle of Firewhisky from the table on his left, then pours a finger for each of them into two waiting glasses. “Over the years, I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve nearly met a sad fate. And yet, for some cruel reason, here I am.”

“The measly amount of luck you’re clinging to will eventually run out, you know.”

Ignoring Draco’s words, Severus hands him a glass and then raises his own. “What shall we toast to tonight?”

“How about…to love, luck, and good looks.”

Draco’s words punch Severus directly in the gut. What should be a light-hearted toast is only a reminder of the heavy burden he’s wanted to break free from all his life.

“To love, luck, and good looks,” Severus drawls sarcastically. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

He lightly clinks his glass against Draco's before taking a sip.

Severus sighs, not because of the familiar warmth sliding down his throat, but because he knows Draco is correct: He can no longer pretend nothing’s wrong; he needs to do something before his luck does indeed run out.

* * *

Harry feels numb. A curse? Severus is suffering from a curse? If Harry weren’t propping himself up, he would have slumped to the floor.

Laying his head against the wall, Harry shuts his eyes. He hadn’t intended to overhear. His sole purpose for visiting Severus was to ask him if he needed another chaperone tomorrow for Hogsmeade weekend.

Since the war ended nearly twelve years ago, the mutual animosity felt between him and Severus has changed to respect. Working as fellow professors over the last three years has further strengthened their friendship. Just last Wednesday, and every Wednesday since the start of the semester, they’ve shared a pint after dinner at the Three Broomsticks. When Harry came down with a bad case of Black-Cat Flu last month, Severus took on all of Harry’s responsibilities without needing to be asked and even had the house-elves prepare his very own chicken-noodle-soup recipe.

Severus is a good mate.

Harry grits his teeth. By now, one would think they were close enough to discuss dangerous, life-threatening curses!

And why does Malfoy know about the curse? Harry frowns at the unwanted jab of jealousy.

He shakes his head and starts down the hallway towards the stairs. It doesn’t matter that Malfoy knows because tomorrow Harry will ask Severus himself and learn all about the ‘how, what, and why’ of this mysterious curse.

* * *

Harry takes another long drink of his Butterbeer. Okay, maybe bringing up the topics of a secret, deadly curse and unintentionally eavesdropping are harder than Harry first anticipated. But he needs to find the courage soon; Severus is starting to look at him funny.

“Harry,” Severus says in his smooth, low voice, “is something troubling you? Or have I unwittingly managed to get foam on my nose again?”

Harry can’t help but crack a smile. Severus has really loosened up over the years.

“Yeah," Harry admits, "there is something I want to talk to you about.” Setting down his mug, he quickly glances around the pub. Most of the students have already headed back to Hogwarts, but to be on the safe side, Harry pulls out his wand. “ _Muffliato_.”

Severus' eyebrows rise slightly.

“First, I need to apologise to you,” Harry reveals.

Severus frowns. “Apologise?”

“Yes… Yesterday evening, I wanted to ask you if you’d need help with today and overhead you talking about a…curse.”

Inhaling deeply, Severus sits back in his chair. “I see.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t announce myself. I should have. But…once I understood what you and Malfoy were talking about, I couldn’t.” Harry gazes straight into Severus’ eyes. “Severus, what curse? Malfoy sounded worried. _I’m_ worried. Do I have reason to be?”

Severus looks away for a moment and exhales a heavy breath before focusing on Harry again. “What afflicts me is called the Grimm Curse, and it's affected the Prince line for centuries. So far, all those with Prince blood lose their beauty and luck, both attributes gradually getting worse and worse until they meet an untimely death”—Harry feels the blood in his face drain away—“The only course of action to break the spell is for a Prince descendant to locate their one soulmate in all of time and space and share a true-love kiss—which is understandably near impossible to accomplish when one is plagued with bad luck.”

“What have you done to try and break it?”

Severus grimaces. “Besides research, not much. I’ve always got by in spite of it. After surviving the war, I thought the blood curse had somehow been broken. All descendants since the curse was originally cast have died before the age of forty—my mother included—and I managed to live past it, however narrowly. But, as more and more ill-luck found me with every passing year, I eventually realised the inevitable had only been postponed. Since then, I’m ashamed to say I’ve been ignoring the issue, perhaps hoping a solution would find me.”

Harry stares into his mug. Severus is his friend. Sure, he’s acerbic to a fault, wears black obsessively, and at times, he can be a tad too pessimistic. But he can also be incredibly thoughtful, has the funniest dry wit, and can be wonderfully noble—though he would deny it to his last dying breath. Severus deserves to find love, to find his soulmate.

A gleam of determination appears in Harry’s eyes.

“Well then,” Harry chirps, “we’ll just have to break the curse before it does you in.” He smiles. “And I know exactly who can help. But I’ll need to make a call. May I use your office fireplace? It’ll be less of a trek.”

His mouth slightly open, Severus stares. After a long second, his nonplussed expression transforms into one of amusement. “You may use my office under one condition.”

“Yeah?” Harry asks, raising his brows.

“Drinks are on you next week.”

Harry grins. “Deal.”

* * *

Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione sees her fireplace flare green and groans. It’s Saturday. She thought she’d be able to work in peace.

“Who is it?” she asks, continuing to scribble down a note.

“Ah, I thought you’d come in today. It’s Harry.”

Hermione sighs. “Harry, now isn’t the best time. I have until Tuesday to finish reviewing this report. It could be the lynchpin for me to secure the needed votes for the Lycanthrope Investment Venture Effort—”

“Hermione, this is life or death. Severus is suffering from a centuries-old family blood curse. If he doesn’t find his soulmate soon, he’ll die an unlucky, ugly bastard. He needs our help.”

Her writing hand freezes. Professor Snape…blood curse…soulmate…

“ _What_?” Hermione says in utter disbelief.

“How best would we go about finding this person for Severus?”

“A soulmate for Professor Snape? Is this all hypothetical? Or perhaps…a prank?”

“Er…no.”

Hermione closes her eyes and shakes her head. Only Harry would discover something like this out of the blue.

She places her quill in its holder, then rises from her chair. “You may as well come over.”

“Severus is here too.”

She grins. “Is he there willingly?”

“That’s up for debate,” she hears Professor Snape mutter from somewhere behind Harry.

Hermione snickers. “Of course he’s invited too.”

Goodness, the last time she spoke with Professor Snape was when Harry started working at Hogwarts, which is a shame. Their discussion about Pinkerton’s Magical Source Theory had been a lively and enlightening one.

As Harry steps out of her fireplace, she quickly Summons a fresh pot of tea, cups, and a plate of digestives onto her desk.

Hermione frowns in thought when Professor Snape’s blurry form comes into view inside the emerald flames. She should endeavour to strike up a friendship with him as Harry did. What with Ron constantly gallivanting about and a majority of her largest legislative goals now achieved, it would be nice to have company like this more often.

“It’s been almost a whole month since I last saw you,” Harry lightly scolds, pulling her out of her musings.

Hermione sighs and turns to face him. “I know. But you know how busy things get before a vote.” She wraps her arms around him for a hug. “Though, after over a decade of it, I think I’m ready to have more than only a semblance of a social life.”

“Does Ron know about this new development?” he asks, not so guilelessly.

“Harry…”

Before she can speak another word, he playfully turns their friendly embrace into a bear hug and lifts her off the ground.

Hermione squeals and laughs. “No! Let me down! Let me down this instant, Harry James Potter!”

The second her sensible shoes are reunited with the floor, she lightly smacks him on his chest. “Really, Harry.” She doesn’t chide him further; he did manage to make her laugh despite her overly stressed state.

Not wanting to keep Professor Snape waiting any longer, Hermione smiles warmly as she turns to face him. The instant she lays eyes on him, her expression becomes slightly lax with shock.

Professor Snape’s once raven hair is now nearly all white; his nose is even more crooked than before, and deep wrinkles now underscore his already austere persona. He seems far older than a span of three years warranted. When Harry said Professor Snape might die unlucky and ugly, he was most likely being literal—that or he's a rotten friend. And Hermione knows exactly how much of a wonderful friend Harry is.

Renewing her smile, she says, “It’s lovely to see you again, Professor.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “Come on, Hermione. No formalities. This isn’t another dull Ministry function.”

“Here.” Harry gestures at Severus. “Hermione, please meet my good mate, Severus.” He gestures at Hermione. “Severus, this is my good mate, Hermione. There. Now that we’re all introduced, no need for any more pointless titles.”

Acting as though he’s just earned all _O_ s on his NEWTs, Harry struts off towards one of the two available seats in front of her desk. With his robes billowing quite similarly to how Prof—er, _Severus’_ robes are known to do, Hermione barely stops herself from snorting out a laugh. If only Harry’s adolescent self could see him now.

Her cheeks aching from trying not to smile, Hermione leans towards Severus. “The Boy-Who-Lived-Twice has spoken,” she whispers.

His answering grin breaks her composure and raises a wide smile on her face.

“Yes, we wouldn’t want the illustrious Hero-of-the-Wizarding-World to get into a right mard, now would we, _Hermione_?” he asks overly loud so Harry can hear.

“I agree, _Severus_. Shall we join the Chosen One?”

“Yes, let’s.

Harry’s scowl causes Severus’ eyes to shine with mirth and Hermione to chortle as they walk to their seats.

Once everyone is seated comfortably, Hermione gestures at the tea and biscuits. “Please help yourselves.”

While Harry and Severus serve themselves, she tidies up her desk before pulling out a fresh sheet of parchment from a drawer. After marking the date, she jots down everything pertinent Harry spouted off earlier.

“Alright”—she quickly pours herself a cuppa—“Severus, I presume simply locating your soulmate isn’t enough.”

“Correct. The Grimm Curse, as the curse is called, requires a”—he sneers—“true-love kiss.”

She hums in acknowledgement, her quill scratching away.

At least he isn’t required to shag all potential soulmate candidates. He is by no means classically attractive, and his words can be quite barbed. Him needing to act the part of a Don Juan would prove quite the challenge.

Although—Hermione studies Severus’ face—perhaps not.

Though not handsome, his features _are_ striking. And he has one of the most decadently rich voices she’s ever heard. Also, his keen intelligence could be incredibly attractive to the right person.

A picture of him moaning while passionately rutting into a nameless body rudely pops into her head.

Hermione’s face warms, and she clears her throat. She so needs a good shag. Not Severus, of course, he’s not really her type. But someone else closer to her age maybe.

“Um…do either of you have any thoughts about where we should start?” she asks.

Harry’s eyes brighten with an idea. “There’s the Black library; I’m sure it has something about soulmates or inherited curses.”

“Perhaps starting with a more mundane method before diving into questionable avenues would be best,” Hermione suggests. Bad luck and the Black library would likely be a recipe for disaster.

“Uh, Hermione, I don’t think Severus pub-crawling to find random dates is the best answer either.”

No, random won’t work… That’s it!

“Oh,” she says excitedly, “what about that matchmaking advert that’s constantly in the _Prophet_?”

Hermione bends over and rummages through her recyclables bin.

“Found it,” she grunts, straightening up.

Hermione sets the newspaper on her desk, then using her uncanny memory, turns right to the correct page. “Aha! Here it is!” She flips the paper around and places it closer to Harry and Severus.

**PROMNESTRIA’S MAGICAL MATCHES**  
_Finding love has never been easier!_

Promnestria’s is the world’s premier matchmaking service.

How it works:  
Simply let us know a little about yourself and your heart’s desire, and our expert Compatibility Arithmancers will do the rest.

With our worldwide community of subscribers at your fingertips, your chance of discovering the love of your life is better than ever.

PLUS YOUR FIRST 30 DAYS WILL BE ON US!

You have nothing to lose and everything to gain! So send your owl to Promnestria’s today!

 _Your match is waiting for you_.

After trial period, one Galleon is due by each month’s end for continued service. Use of love potions will result in immediate termination of service. Love isn’t guaranteed.

“Hmm, seems harmless enough to try,” Severus says. He glances between Hermione and Harry. “What do you suggest I write?”

“Well,” Hermione offers first, “your soulmate probably shares interests with you, so submitting a straightforward listing makes the most sense.”

Harry smiles and nods in agreement.

“While you pursue this for the time being,” she continues, “I’ll do some side research. I’m sure you’ve already exhausted Hogwarts offerings, so I’ll look elsewhere. Could you post whatever information you’ve collected thus far to my office?”

Severus nods. “I’ll do so as soon as I return.”

Beaming, Harry claps once. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Agreed,” Severus adds with a small, sincere smile of his own.

As Severus moves to stand, Harry lightly slaps Hermione’s desk with his palm. “Oh, I almost forgot to ask”—Severus exhales softly and sits back down—“Next weekend is this month’s dinner at the Burrow. Will you be coming?”

Hermione sighs and nods. “Yes. I learnt my lesson after Mrs Weasley sent me that Howler-of-All-Howlers.” She shudders. “Although…I make no promises not to cast a few hexes if Ron or George tries to test any of their new products on me.”

Nonchalantly, she asks, “Do you know if Ron will be bringing Sabella?”

Harry owlishly blinks.

Hermione narrows her eyes when she sees the sides of his mouth twitch. “Didn’t you know?” he asks a little _too_ innocently. “They broke up last week?”

“Oh.” Don’t look happy; don’t look happy.

“I don’t know why you won’t also date,” Harry says with exasperation.

“Well, I’m still too busy for a relationship. It’s the reason why Ron and I didn’t work in the first place.” She blows out a puff of air. “And I’m fine with him dating.” Really. Yes, perfectly fine.

Harry lifts his brow.

“ _Really_. I’d…just prefer not having to sit across from it.” She gives him a wry smile.

He shakes his head and chuckles.

Not to be outdone: “You’re one to talk. When was the last time _you_ went out on a date?”

“Uh…” Harry side glances at Severus and blushes.

Grinning, Hermione takes a prim sip of her tea. “Thought so. You should think about joining the matchmaking service too. You never know: love might only be an owl away.”

A troubled expression appears on Harry’s face. But whatever his thoughts are, he keeps them to himself.

* * *

Severus stares at the golden notecard in his hand:

_Dear Mr Snape:  
_  
_Promnestria’s thanks and welcomes you to our world-renowned service. Below you will find information regarding your expertly calculated match._

_Name: Philomena Thibaut_  
_Age Range: 40-45_  
_Country of Residence: United States of America_  
_Occupation: Historian of American magic_  
_Summary of Interests/Hobbies: Enjoys travelling and reading nonfiction, especially biographies. Prefers a good beer to wine and would rather go horseback riding than fly around on a bristly stick._

_Destination: Mama Dee’s Diner and Distillery, Steward Street, Houston, Texas, USA_  
_Attire: Casual_  
_Date: Sunday, 18 April 2010_  
_Duration: 17:00–18:13 (UTC)_

_This card will conveniently act as your mode of transport. Please note the duration; the Portkey will activate at the exact times listed._

_We wish you the best of luck!  
Promnestria’s Magical Matches_

Severus sighs. _Luck_. Why did they have to wish him good luck?

He glances at Hogwarts through the main entrance gates, then down at his watch: one minute until six.

There’s still time; he can tear up this card and march right back into the Great Hall for dinner and…have to explain that he was too spineless to go on a simple date: the first actual date of his entire life, but still, only a date.

If he didn’t go through with it, Harry would likely understand his hesitation, but Draco would probably mither about it for weeks.

Severus gazes down at his stark teaching robes. Perhaps he should have changed.

He again checks the time: five seconds.

Inhaling deeply, Severus shuts his eyes. He can do this; he can—

A powerful tug yanks at Severus’ navel, and he plunges into what feels like an icy stream of water. For a countless amount of time, streaks of light in a psychedelic spectrum of colours dizzyingly fly past him on all sides.

By the time his feet hit solid pavement, Severus’ gut churns. He presses a hand to his stomach and groans. If ever asked, he can now unequivocally say that he prefers _not_ to travel by transatlantic Portkey.

The next instant, Severus notices the heavy beat of raindrops and realises he’s in the middle of a spring downpour.

He reaches for his wand when a witch, who has already cast an Umbrella Charm, kindly moves to stand next to him.

Severus turns and discovers she also happens to be holding a golden notecard.

“Severus Snape?” the witch enquires in a charming drawl, her striking cornflower eyes looking hopeful.

The witch’s conservative navy robes—not too different in style from his own—instantly put Severus at ease. He nods.

She smiles sweetly, showing a row of perfectly straight, alarmingly white teeth. “It’s so good to meet you. You’ve travelled so far, but I’m glad we could meet during my lunch hour. I’m Philomena, but everyone calls me Lena.”

Lena pockets her notecard, then extends her hand for a handshake.

Severus accepts. “The pleasure is mine.”

Hearing the velvet-tone of his voice, Lena’s face flushes. “Wow. Promnestria’s means business.” She clears her throat. “Are you hungry? I’m starving.” She offers Severus a contagious grin. “Let’s get out of this rain and get something to eat. You’ll need to try one of Mama Dee’s pies. They’re so delicious they’ve been known to knock a full-grown wizard right off his feet.”

* * *

As they wait for their ordered meals, Severus tries a sip of the _Cold Moon River Stout_ Lena suggested. His brow rises in surprise: it’s good. He takes another sip. Quite good. He’ll need to purchase a few bottles to take back; Harry would appreciate it.

“So, Severus, where do you teach?” Lena asks. “And what subject?”

“Hogwarts,” Severus answers. “I teach Potions.”

Lena’s eyes sparkle. “Potions! My granddaddy on my mama’s side was a well-known potion-maker.”

“Oh,” Severus says with interest, “what was his name?”

“Gordon Ball.”

Severus' eyebrows shoot up. “The creator of the Vitamix Potion?” He’s had to handout detentions to a number of Quidditch players over the years trying to gain an unfair advantage using said potion.

“You know of him!” Lena exclaims in excited pleasure. “I enjoy Potion Theory myself but never had a natural knack for it. I much prefer my dusty tomes and ancient artefacts.”

He takes another sip of his beer, finding himself truly enjoying Lena’s affable company. “Yes, my notecard stated you work as a historian.”

“Partly,” she replies. “I _do_ work as a historian and publish writings based on my research, but recently, I’ve also begun to work as a curator for the Houston Museum of Magical American History. Our up-and-coming exhibit has me so excited; it will feature Aztecan—“

 _CRACK_!

“Ahh!” Lena and several other people scream, jumping in fright.

Holding her hand over her heart, Lena nervously laughs. “Wow, the storm must be right over the top of us.”

The lights flicker, then go dark. And Severus feels his mood start to do the same.

A second later, candles appear on all the tables.

“Well, on the upside”—Lena grins—“the ambience has become more romantic.”

He gives a hesitant nod and smile. “Yes…more romantic.”

About a minute later, they hear yelled curses and screams.

Severus closes his eyes, just _knowing_.

Then, as if right on cue: “FIRE! THE ROOF’S ON FIRE! EVERYBODY EVACUATE!”

For a few seconds, people sit and stare at each other dumbly, some even laughing and elbowing one another in good humour—that is, until a portion of the ceiling collapses.

As one chaotic, many-legged monster, people scramble for the exits.

With smoke quickly filling the air, Severus turns to check on Lena and finds her eyes bulging with terror.

“Lena, are you alright?”

“Fire… No…not again,” Lena says, unhearing. She leaps from her seat. “Not again!” she screeches, racing away without a word of farewell, without even a backwards glance.

Severus sighs and slowly rises to his feet. Flicking his wand, he casts a Bubble-Head Charm. From his coin purse, he digs out twenty Dragots he converted earlier and places them on the table.

Severus takes a step to leave, then pauses. “ _Accio_ _case of_ Cold Moon River Stout.”

He grunts when a box containing two dozen bottles of beer barrels into his arms.

Setting the case down for a moment, Severus digs around for more money, adding what seems like a fair amount to the table.

After applying a quick feather-light charm for easier carrying, he strolls out of the burning building, feeling…satisfactory.

All things considered, his first date could have ended far worse.

* * *

Severus takes a sip of his warm sake. He wants to swallow the entirety of it to dull his nerves but refrains. It may be half-past five in the evening in Japan; however, in Scotland, it’s still morning, and he’ll be returning there in less than an hour.

The extreme time difference between him and his present match necessitated their date be on Saturday. Unfortunately, the almost weeklong reprieve wasn’t nearly enough time for him to forget the wretchedness that was his date with Lena. If anything, the extra time has caused his anxiety to jump on a broom and take flight.

And, now, every minute that passes mishap-free only serves to further increase his stress level.

Inhaling a long breath, Severus reclaims his chopsticks. Mechanically, he lifts the second-to-last batter-mummified shrimp from his plate. He prefers his fish cooked, not raw, and tempura shrimp was the lone option on the menu that didn’t resemble an unidentifiable or questionable Potions ingredient.

“What is it like to work as a graphic-novel editor?” Severus smoothly asks, his voice not betraying any of his unease as he adds to the conversation in progress. “The British wizarding world doesn’t have much when it comes to quality comics, but I did read many of the Muggle variety when I was younger.”

“Honestly, it’s like most work,” Yoshiro answers, his Australian accent lilting his words, “some parts you enjoy or tolerate, other parts you hate.” He turns to the sushi chef standing behind the worktop and gestures at their cups. “ _Motto o sake kudasai_.”

The chef nods and quickly tops their cups with a swish of his wand.

Yoshiro smiles and Severus tries not to stare at his face. For Yoshiro to give him such a look, there must be something seriously off with Yoshiro’s eyesight, or he’s more pissed than he appears. With his almond-shaped, hazel eyes and long, black hair, Yoshiro is painfully attractive, the type of attractive that goes past handsome into beautiful. His body is also appealing, being more on the petite side, like Harry’s.

“Do you want to try some before it’s all gone?” Yoshiro asks, pointing at his plate still bearing a few pieces of delicately sliced fish.

“No, thank you. But I appreciate your asking.”

“Then, would it be okay if I tried some of yours?” Yoshiro asks with a playful slant to his lips.

Severus glances at his last shrimp. “Oh. Yes, of course.” He picks it up with his chopsticks and brings it to Yoshiro’s mouth.

Gazing directly into Severus’ eyes, Yoshiro slowly wraps his mouth around the morsel and takes a bite. He shuts his eyes for a moment and moans as he chews. Once he swallows, he licks his lips suggestively, then grins. “Tastes delicious.”

Severus feels his cheeks burn from the blatant seduction.

Yoshiro chuckles. “I must really want to kiss you… My lips tingle.”

Severus stills. “Tingle?” He looks at Yoshiro’s food. “What are you eating, exactly?”

“Oh, it’s a delicacy: fugu…pufferfish.”

Severus gasps. Tingly lips are the first sign of poison by animals in the Tetraodontidae family! He immediately stuffs his hand into the pocket where he always keeps a bezoar.

Empty.

Of course! His pocket is somehow empty!

As he frantically searches his other pockets, Severus says, “Yoshiro, I believe the fish has poisoned you”—Yoshiro pales—“Ask the chef if he has an antidote.”

Yoshiro does so, then translates what was said to Severus: “He doesn’t have an antidote. But he says it’s impossible for the fish to be poisonous. The toxin is always magically removed at the fish market beforehand.”

Severus gives up on finding the bezoar and instead grabs his wand. “ _Revealio Toxicum._ ”

They all watch as the paper-thin pieces of fish start to glow a sickly green: poisonous.

Severus leaps to his feet. He grabs both of Yoshiro’s upper arms and pulls him off his stool. “You must Apparate to hospital.”

Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, Yoshiro stares at him in shock.

“DO IT NOW!” Severus shouts. “YOU COULD HAVE MERE MINUTES!”

Yoshiro's eyes widen, and he quickly steps away.

 _Crack_!

Staring at the empty spot in front of him, Severus relaxes his shoulders.

He plops back onto his seat and sighs. “I guess I’ll need to settle the entire bill,” he mutters to himself.

Well, if that’s the case…

Severus picks up his still pleasantly warm sake and lifts it in a toast towards the chef. “ _Kanpai_.”

The chef shakily pours himself a cup. “ _Kanpai_ ,” he echoes.

They clink their glasses, share a look, then gulp down their respective drinks.

* * *

Severus’ next match, Arter Trophy, is ironically a curse-breaker. Severus can’t decide whether this is a good or bad omen. Pointing towards good, their date won’t require a Portkey, which makes Severus’ stomach quite happy.

The place Promnestria’s selected for their date is the bookshop Tomes and Scrolls in Hogsmeade. Since his youth, Severus has spent many an hour hiding away in its reading nooks, browsing and deciding between which books to spend his Galleons on. His face softens in fond remembrance.

When the shop comes into view, Severus’ heart skips a beat. Gazing at its display window is none other than Harry, holding a familiar notecard.

Stunned jubilation fills Severus as he quickens his stride. Harry must have joined the matchmaking service under a false name. It would be like him to do so.

But when Harry turns around, Severus’ heart deflates. Because it’s not Harry. The wizard could be Harry’s brother. But it’s not him.

Severus berates himself for even _thinking_ such daftness. He and Harry are close colleagues; one might even say good friends. But nothing more.

Who must indeed be this ‘Arter Trophy’ person spots him and waves a cheerful hello.

Severus, feeling obliged to reciprocate, raises his hand and—

* * *

Groaning, Severus comes to and finds himself on a bed in the Hospital Wing.

“Dammit.”

As he attempts to sit up, he hears the stern tap of shoes start towards him.

Poppy soon arrives at his bedside, looking equal parts concerned and narked. She places a hand on his chest, and Severus relaxes back onto the bed.

“What happened?” he rasps, the room seeming to darken and brighten at random.

“You were hit by the Knight Bus,” she replies matter-of-factly.

Severus can only chuckle darkly at the absurdity of it all before unconsciousness carries him away again.

* * *

Closing his eyes for a second, Severus rubs the bridge of his nose. Today has felt even longer than usual. His neck is still stiff from being hit by a bloody bus the previous day. To say nothing of the _six_ students who managed to explode their cauldrons. And this impromptu meeting of the minds in the staff room feels more like a harbinger of doom than any means to a solution.

“We need to drastically change tactics,” Severus says exhaustedly across the table to Hermione. “I’m haemorrhaging luck. I understand your hesitance, but at this rate, I won’t be alive much longer to find my soulmate.”

Hermione sighs and nods her head in acceptance.

“So, should we pay a visit to Grimmauld Place?” Harrys asks, concern clear on his face.

Hermione’s eyes bulge. “No!” Her cheeks redden. “I mean, I may have found something else that could help. Though keep in mind I’ve had no time to thoroughly research it like I wanted.”

She lifts her work briefcase off the floor, then opens it on her lap. From his angle, Severus can’t see what she’s doing, but he can hear the rustle of bureaucracy as she rifles through rolls of parchment.

After retrieving what she was after, Hermione hurriedly shuts and sets aside her briefcase. She then shows him and Harry a tattered, brown-leather book with faded-gold lettering: CVLTVS EROTIS by IOHN PENSER of the Society of Eros.

“From what I can tell”—she carefully turns to a bookmarked page—“it was printed in the late 1500s as a vade mecum—”

“A what?” Harry interrupts.

“A handbook,” she quickly answers. “A small group of magical folk who worshipped the god Eros used it.”

“Doesn’t appear like it’s been well taken care of,” Harry remarks. “Where’d you find it?”

“Believe it or not, I came across it at the Burrow yesterday after dinner. Arthur mentioned a box of books in his workroom that he was planning to toss and asked if I wanted to go through it first.

“Honestly, I didn’t give it much stock until I found a ritual that’s able to increase the fertility of descendants for generations.”

Considering the Weasleys’ unusual prolific ability to produce magical offspring, they all nod in understanding.

Hermione hands the book to Severus. “On this page, I found one potion in particular I think may—”

The door to the staff room suddenly swings open, and Longbottom, appearing worse for wear, ambles in. Harry and Hermione facing away from the door can’t see who it is, but Severus can. He can also see that Longbottom has Devil’s Snare sap in his hair, which is known to be spontaneously combustible.

Noticing how they all stopped talking, Longbottom hesitates. “Should I come back later?”

Severus huffs. What’s one more person learning about his cursed state? “No need.”

Longbottom exhales in relief and heads straight for the Perpetual Pot filled with Hogwarts’ signature black tea. It seems Severus isn’t the only one who’s had a long day.

“Hermione,” Harry says, resuming their conversation, “how can the potion help break the curse?”

“It should help by giving us a better idea of who Severus’ soulmate is."

Learning what they're discussing, Longbottom unintentionally spits out a mouthful of tea.

Severus studies the potion. “ _Tadacorune_ …” he says softly, trying to decipher one of the unfamiliar ingredients written in a version of Early Modern English. He smiles when the answer comes to him. “Toadcrown. Toadcrown Mushroom.”

For a brief moment, he and Hermione share a grin of excitement over discovering such a rare find. But then it hits him: “It’s hallucinogenic.”

Harry chortles. “Come off it, Severus. No need to clutch your pearls. The real question is whether it’ll work.”

Severus scrutinises the directions. “It’s a viable potion but…it will require an entire day of constant monitoring to brew. And Ghost Roses are now exceedingly rare; it would be difficult, not to mention, cost-prohibitive to get our hands on some.”

Longbottom perks up and approaches their table, coming to a stop behind Harry and Hermione. “Ghost Roses? There’s one growing in Gran’s ornamental garden. I’m sure she won’t mind if I gather a few blooms. I could even cut them at midnight when it’s most potent, if you like.”

Severus finds himself taken aback but also immensely gratefully at Longbottom’s generous offer. “That…would be much appreciated, Professor Longbottom. If you’re free right now, please join us. I loathe having to admit it, but I need all the help I can get.”

“Er, sure,” Longbottom mumbles, tentatively smiling.

As he rounds the table to the open chair, Severus, unable to stand the state of Longbottom’s hair for another second, flicks his wand, removing all traces of the flammable plant residue.

“You had sap in your hair,” Severus explains.

“Oh”—blushing sheepishly, Longbottom takes a seat—“Thanks, Professor.”

Severus softly snorts a laugh. To this day, he can’t believe Longbottom was the one who offed that murderous demonic reptile. He shakes his head before sliding the book so that it’s positioned equally between himself and Longbottom. Then together, they review the list of ingredients.

* * *

While Severus, Neville, and Hermione, stare down at the finished potion waiting on Severus’ new workstation, Harry glances at their faces. He observes how the icy-blue concoction casts an eerie glow, making them all resemble apparitions. He shivers.

“And it’s safe?” Harry asks no one in particular, only aware of his fear for Severus’ well-being.

Severus picks up the glass container, swirling it hypnotically. “Yes,” he answers. He gives everyone a brief grin. “If I had attempted the potion on my own, it might have literally blown up in my face. But with all of your help and advice, it’s the perfect colour and consistency.”

Harry smiles, as does everyone else. Although Severus isn’t outright saying it, everybody knows he’s offering his thanks.

Taking a deep breath, Severus brings the potion to his lips.

Harry’s gut twists as he watches the muscles of Severus’ throat swallow down the questionable brew. He should be thrilled. If this potion works, Severus will be one step closer to finding love, more than love, his _soulmate_. But with every passing second, Harry’s heart sinks further and further towards the floor, as if expecting to be stomped upon.

Severus suddenly gasps, capturing Harry’s full attention. The instant Harry hears the shatter of glass, he automatically rushes to Severus’ side.

And just in time.

When Severus’ knees give out, Harry is there to catch him.

“The sofa,” Hermione instructs as she Vanishes the broken vial pieces.

Not needing to be prompted, Neville lifts Severus’ legs, and with Harry holding Severus under his arms, they carry him over.

Once Severus is comfortably lying down and the stress of his collapse has somewhat abated, Harry’s expression softens with amusement. Severus has such a dopey grin on his face. Harry can’t ever recall seeing him so at ease.

An image of Severus sporting the same expression, but due to sexual satisfaction, takes Harry by surprise.

Harry clenches his teeth. Now is not the time to have inappropriate thoughts, _especially_ about one of his mates. He purposefully redirects all his concentration on Severus’ faraway gaze.

After about five minutes of them all worriedly standing over the sofa, Severus shakes his head and blinks. For a second, he stares only at Harry before he shoos them back a step so he can sit up.

“What did you see?” Hermione asks with barely contained excitement.

“Sit first,” Severus grumbles. “I don’t appreciate the hovering.”

They scurry to find a seat: Neville on Severus’ reading chair and Harry and Hermione sandwiching Severus between them.

When Severus begins to speak, Harry leans closer, both eager and afraid.

“I saw a jumble of things,” Severus finally says. He furrows his brow. “Symbolic pictures. I recognised the figure of _Notos_ , the Greek god of summer; he was holding runes, one in each hand: _Berkano_ and _Thurisaz_. Then I saw a three-tailed dragon-comet.”

“ _Berkano_ typically symbolises birth or sanctuary,” Hermione muses aloud. “ _Thurisaz_ is trickier. But bearing in mind the vision was of a god and not a goddess and the fact that _Thurisaz_ can represent male sexuality, maybe it’s trying to stress that.”

“I know about the three-tailed dragon-comet,” Neville adds nervously. “Gran said I was named after it. Solomon’s my middle name, and Solomon’s Comet last came into view in the year 1980.”

“Okay,” Hermione says, “so we probably need to locate a wizard who was born during the summer of 1980.” She chews on her lip as she glances back and forth between Harry and Neville, both of them born during that time frame. “Severus, by chance, did you see anything else that’ll narrow things down?”

Severus nods, his amused expression turning sombre. “I did. The final thing I could make out was the Slytherin coat of arms.”

At Severus’ words, Hippogriff hooves slam directly into Harry’s sternum, stealing all his breath.

Slytherin. Severus’ soulmate is a Slytherin.

Rapidly blinking his stinging eyes, Harry forces himself to inhale. Why does he feel so woefully disappointed? It makes no sense.

The room remains silent until Harry can’t take it anymore. “Well, it’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?” Harry finally says, trying not to let any bitterness taint his voice. “Your soulmate is most likely Draco Malfoy.”

They hear a sharp gasp and turn to find Malfoy standing in the doorway, his mouth agape.

Harry groans and shuts his eyes. Just great.

When Harry opens his eyes, Malfoy is striding towards them, a smirk on his face. “Master Severus”—Harry’s jaw tightens—“so this is what you and your pride of lions have been up to.”

“Draco…” Severus warns.

Malfoy comes to a stop in front of them. “If I _am_ your soulmate, I think that takes precedence over the impropriety of us having a romantic relationship as Apprentice and Master, don’t you agree?” He takes one of Severus’ hands in his. “So, Severus, would you do me the honour of joining me at Madam Puddifoot’s for a cuppa tomorrow evening?”

Severus stares mutely at Malfoy.

“At seven o’clock?” Malfoy prompts.

Severus sighs, then nods.

“Brilliant,” Malfoy drawls. He bends down to kiss Severus’ hand, but Severus, not one to show public displays of affection, pulls away before Malfoy’s lips can land.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Draco.”

Malfoy flushes at the slight rebuke and straightens. “Until then.”

As Malfoy swaggers from the laboratory, Harry has to resort to clenching his thighs with his hands so that he doesn’t tackle him from behind.

Tomorrow is Wednesday, the day he and Severus always share a drink at the Three Broomsticks, and Malfoy, the arse, knows it!

Harry takes a deep calming breath. No, this is good. Severus has found his soulmate; soon, his luck will change for the better. He’ll be safe. That’s what’s important.

But…Severus isn’t out of the woods yet. In the meantime, something unlucky could still happen.

“Severus,” Harry says, yanking the brooding wizard out of his contemplations, “what do you say about some backup tomorrow night, you know, just in case something unfortunate happens again?”

Severus' eyebrows lift. “That is…an excellent idea, Harry.” His dark eyes begin to sparkle. “I think I’ll take you up on it.”

Harry grins in triumph. He’ll ensure everything about Severus and Malfoy’s date goes smoothly. Malfoy won’t know what hit him. And that’s meant purely rhetorically—for the most part.

* * *

Severus feels odd that Harry is in his bedroom, odder still that Harry’s helping him piece together an outfit between the two of their wardrobes. But, at the same time, Harry’s presence feels almost natural here.

“I think these would work better than your usual boots,” Harry comments, holding out a pair of shiny, black Oxfords.

Trusting Harry’s opinion, Severus accepts them. He sits down on a nearby chair to put them on.

Harry patiently waits beside him as he ties his laces. Once done, Severus stands and self-consciously slides his hands down the midnight-blue shirt Harry resized and loaned to him. This is the most effort Severus has put into his appearance—ever, which is humorous seeing as he's wearing a fraction of the layers he usually does.

After giving Severus a critical once over, Harry adjusts Severus’ collar.

It takes all of Severus’ Occlumency skill not to turn crimson at his touch.

“There.” Harry grins. “You’re perfect.”

Severus parts his lips and finds it hard to look at Harry. Perfect. He's never been called perfect before. Severus knows Harry is referring to his ensemble and not him personally, but even so, his heart can’t stop fluttering.

“We better hurry,” Harry says, glancing at his watch. “It’s half six.”

Severus nods and starts towards the door.

He and Harry quickly exit the bedroom. After passing through a short hallway into the living room, they come to a stop next to the robe-stand. From it, Harry grabs their cloaks.

Harry tosses Severus’ cloak to him, then opens the front door. “After you.”

Severus’ heart twinges. For a moment, he imagines that it's him and Harry about to go on a date.

Taking a deep breath, Severus forces away the barmy feeling. He drapes his cloak over an arm and gives Harry a fleeting smile. “Thank you.”

Harry’s face softens. “You’re welcome.”

As Harry shuts the door, Severus checks the charms that keep any curious students out of his private quarters. Then, in comfortable silence, they walk side by side through a maze of hallways towards the stairs that lead out of the dungeons. While on the way, Severus feels tempted to escort Harry by the arm—which is ridiculous.

Severus’ wayward thoughts continue when he follows Harry up the flight of steps. With Harry’s arse mere inches away from his face, it’s hard to ignore. And unlike his tall, angular body, Harry’s shorter frame is stockier, giving him a nice round derrière.

Thankfully, it takes only a few seconds more to reach the entrance hall.

Amid ambling students, they spot Hermione and Ron Weasley chinwagging next to the Gryffindor hourglass.

Weasley, facing their direction, notices them first and points them out to Hermione. She turns around and then continually examines him up and down, probably critiquing his attire.

Getting closer, Severus can see she looks slightly flushed. Knowing how hard it is for her to part from her Ministry office, she likely had to rush here not to miss them.

Once Severus arrives, he dryly asks, “Does my appearance meet your standards?”

Hermione turns even redder. “Oh, er, yes. Ron, what do you think?”

“What?” Weasley asks, seeming completely baffled as to why Hermione would ask him. But he goes ahead and gives Severus his scrutiny. “He looks…alright, I guess. Definitely less bat-like than usual.”

Scowling, Hermione lightly thumps Weasley's stomach with her briefcase. “He looks more than alright, Ronald; he looks…dashing.”

Dashing? Severus gazes down at his long legs clothed in tighter-than-usual trousers—probably due to Harry not quite getting the sizing right. Hermione must be trying to be kind for his sake.

Weasley glances at his watch. “Don’t you think we should head out? The sooner we start, the sooner this will all be over.”

“Hermione, are you sure you don’t want to join us?” Harry asks.

“No, I can’t,” Hermione says apologetically. “I’m having tea with Minerva; she’s becoming not best pleased that I’ve visited Hogwarts multiple times without saying hello. And, Ron, although you moan and groan about having to go, I know you’re eager to get your hands on those little sandwiches they serve.”

Weasley gives her a sly, playful grin. “You know me too well.”

She snorts and shakes her head.

After bidding Hermione goodbye, Severus and Harry don their cloaks. Then, with Weasley in tow, they exit the castle.

During their brisk walk to Hogsmeade, Harry and Weasley pass most of it with chatter about Quidditch and Weasley’s recently expired relationship. Severus contents himself with listening to the cadence of Harry’s voice, adding the occasional quip or commentary when he thinks it might bring a smile to Harry’s face.

When Madam Puddifoot’s comes into clear view, Severus grimaces at the shop’s nauseatingly pink façade. He’d much prefer to be about to share a mug of Butterbeer with Harry as usual.

Harry again opens the door for Severus, bringing back the thought of this being a date between the two of them.

Brushing past, Severus gives Harry a stiff nod of thanks, unable to stop himself from invading Harry’s personal space a smidgen more than necessary.

Once he’s inside, Draco quickly catches sight of him.

Draco’s pompous demeanour momentarily disappears as he rises to his feet. “Severus, you made it,” he says, relief colouring his words. “I’ve gone ahead and ordered your preferred tea and a few other things.”

“Thank you,” Severus replies somewhat stiltedly.

For an awkward moment, Draco’s gaze lingers on Severus’ body. Realising what he’s doing, Draco clears his throat. “Of course.” He pulls out Severus’ chair for him. “Here you are.”

Severus furtively glances around for Harry and finds him and Weasley already sitting at a table slightly further down and to the right.

His and Harry’s eyes meet, and Harry gives him a supportive smile.

Feeling slightly more hopeful, Severus takes a seat.

Draco hurries to sit down in his own chair. “I had a thought about a potential use for hippocampus scales,” he comments, filling Severus' teacup.

“Oh,” Severus says, his interest kindled. He does relish a good conversation about Potion Theory. “Then, by all means, tell me more.”

Draco gives him a genuine smile before going in-depth about how the Dragon-Snout Orchid’s volatility could possibly be stabilised.

Half an hour later, loud laughter interrupts their discussion—the culprits, Harry and Weasley. In all his mirth, Weasley has to grab on to Harry’s arm to stop himself from falling onto the floor.

What could they be talking about that’s so bloody amusing? They must have exhausted the topic of Quidditch by now.

Finally getting control of himself, Weasley leans in and whispers something to Harry.

Severus narrows his eyes.

Harry and Weasley do seem rather close… Perhaps Weasley isn’t with Hermione for an entirely different reason.

For the next hour, Severus divides his attention between Draco and Harry. He’s so absorbed by it that he doesn’t realise one very important thing until he’s alone, back in his private quarters: During his date, nothing unfortunate happened. The food and drink had been enjoyable, the conversation engaging…no one had almost died.

True, there had been no fireworks between him and Draco, but that could easily be explained by Draco’s gentlemanly behaviour.

Severus gulps.

Could Draco truly be his soulmate?

* * *

Because Severus had detentions to monitor the previous evening, he and Malfoy couldn’t have their next date until tonight. But Harry has put the extra time to good use. Severus’ date tonight is going to be spectacular. Harry has made sure of it.

Laying Severus’ outfit down on the bed, Harry exhales a long breath. For some reason, he hadn’t been able to bring himself to join the matchmaking service as Hermione suggested. Tonight, he could be going out on a date of his own rather than having to watch Severus and Malfoy fall more deeply in love.

Harry feels his eyes prickle. Bugger.

He blinks furiously. No. Now was the time to support Severus, not dwell on could-have-beens.

“Harry, are you alright?” Severus asks, startling him out of his thoughts.

Harry spins around. “Yeah, I’m—”

His breath freezes in his lungs.

Severus is standing mere inches away, only a towel loosely wrapped around his trim waist preventing Harry from seeing all of him. He’s so close that Harry can feel the residual heat from his bath.

Harry’s eyes greedily roam across Severus’ body. He can see that scars cover much of his exposed skin, but Severus’ body is by no means weak; in fact, it’s quite fit: the physique of an expert dueller. And Harry should know; over the years, Severus has trounced him countless times during practise duels.

Harry feels his face and neck warm with arousal and embarrassment. “I…was just setting down your clothes.”

He needs to leave now before he does something really stupid. “I have to go." Harry coughs. "I mean I have to finish a few things…away from here.”

Severus is staring at him as if he’s gone round the bend, so Harry adds, “But remember, even though you won’t be able to see me, know that I’ll be watching your back.” He titters and rubs the nape of his neck. "Don’t worry though, as soon as you and Malfoy share your true-love kiss, I’ll make my exit.”

Severus moves closer, looking as if he wants to say something, but Harry rushes toward the doorway. “I’ll see you again soon!”

Passing through the hallway, Harry catches a glimpse inside the steamy bathroom. It brings to mind Severus' near nakedness, causing Harry to softly curse.

He continues to swear and call himself an idiot until he's standing next to the front door.

From the nearby stand, Harry retrieves his Invisibility Cloak. He secures it over his head before opening the door.

Doorknob still in hand, Harry pauses, mentally preparing himself for the inevitable. Then, taking a deep breath, he steps out and closes the door on his aching heart.

* * *

Viewing Severus’ awed expression, Harry’s insides warm with pleasure.

The twinkling silver and gold fairy lights strung from the surrounding trees accentuate the masculine lines of Severus’ body, and Harry can't stop his staring.

He tries not to let seeing Malfoy’s arm linked with Severus’ dampen his mood.

“Severus,” Malfoy says, appearing stunned, “it’s gorgeous.”

“Yes,” Severus quietly replies, his eyes scanning the shadows, “it is.”

As Severus guides Malfoy to the intimate picnic spot, Harry inhales a deep breath of wild primroses. He can now somewhat relax due to the privacy charms he cast on the area, and the environmental spells he also placed would ensure everyone remains comfortable. At the very least, Harry can sit for however long and not have to worry about moisture from the soil seeping into his trousers or his bum going numb.

Once they’re both sat on the spread blanket, Malfoy lifts the waiting bottle of champagne from its ice bucket and pours himself and Severus tall glasses. “Severus, I must say I’m impressed; I never took you for a romantic…”

Trying to ignore their banter and give Severus a semblance of privacy, Harry focuses on the calming sounds of the nearby lake. His mind continues to wander for many minutes until he realises how quiet it’s become.

Harry’s heart seizes when he turns to find Malfoy steadily drawing Severus’ face closer to his.

Harry clenches his jaw. This is it, he laments—the kiss.

Harry turns his head, not wanting to watch, but he forces his eyes back.

At the last second, Severus surprises them both when he jerks his head away.

“I almost forgot.” Severus quickly rises to his feet. “I…have a potion that needs tending to. Draco, I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you for the pleasant evening.”

Once Severus is out of earshot, Malfoy snorts and shakes his head. “As skittish as a fawn,” he mutters.

Malfoy proceeds to pour himself another glass of champagne, then shrugs and decides to take what's left in the bottle too.

Watching Severus and Malfoy return to Hogwarts separately eases the tightness in Harry’s chest that he's felt all day; he would have a little more time with Severus before Malfoy claims his heart.

Reclining onto the ground, Harry shuts his eyes and blows out a long breath.

Why in Merlin's beard did he let himself fall in love with a person who can’t return his feelings?

* * *

With a pall of despondency over his head, Severus knocks on the door to Harry’s quarters.

He doesn't have to wait long before it swings open.

“Severus," Harry says, surprise flitting across his face, "I thought we were meeting in your rooms… Is something the matter?”

“No, everything’s as expected”—and by expected, he means abysmal—“only a small change of plans.”

Harry frowns. “Oh, okay. Come on in.”

“Thank you.”

Severus enters Harry’s cosy living room for the first time during the day and has to squint to tame the light shining in through the windows.

Harry notices and, with a sweeping gesture of his wand, closes the curtains.

“Severus, if you’re worried about your date, you needn’t be. I don’t think Malfoy will require much convincing.”

“Actually, that’s why I’m here, to tell you I’ve cancelled my date with him.”

“What! Why would—”

“Harry”—Severus sighs. He’d already gotten an earful from Draco—“there is no point. Draco is a great friend, but I can’t get past the lack of chemistry. Surely, I would feel something more if he were my soulmate.”

“But the curse—”

“Will one day be broken; I’m not giving up.” He smiles at Harry reassuringly. “We’ll just have to keep searching.”

A small grin tugs at the corners of Harry’s mouth. “We?”

“Of course. Not that I’d have much of a choice. You’ve adhered yourself to my side like a barnacle. But, I must admit, since you’ve begun to help me, things do seem more optimistic and far less danger prone. You could say you’ve been my good-luck charm.”

Severus’ face suddenly loses all expression.

Good-luck charm.

No…it can’t be…

“Harry?”

“Yeah?”

Severus steps closer until they’re almost chest to chest. Then, as if everything’s in slow-motion, he lifts his hands to cup Harry’s face.

Eyes widening, Harry parts his lips and inhales an audible breath.

Severus waits a moment to see if Harry pulls away. When he doesn’t, Severus leans down and lightly presses his lips against Harry’s.

From where their mouths connect, warmth pours into Severus like decadent melted chocolate. He gasps when the warmth transforms into a blast of heat and rushes into his face, torso, and extremities.

Severus’ legs nearly give out when Harry deepens the kiss. He moans and buries his hands into Harry’s hair, pulling him closer; Harry does the same, wrapping his arms around Severus’ neck.

The kiss becomes deeper and hotter until he knows he must stop or risk accidentally coming in his pants.

“Harry,” he breathes.

Both panting, they open their eyes.

Immediately, Harry takes an involuntary step backwards. “S-Severus?” he says with alarm, his eyes growing as large as cauldrons.

Severus’ heart wants to scream at the abrupt separation. “What’s wrong?”

Is he wrong? Is everything he’s feeling only wishful thinking?

Harry places a comforting hand on Severus’ shoulder. “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just your face… It looks…different.”

“My face?”

Harry nods, then stares at his feet, his cheeks colouring.

Severus Summons a mirror from Harry’s bathroom. Once he has a firm grasp of the handle, he slowly raises it.

The instant Severus sees his reflection, his grip becomes vice-like. Taking in his features, Severus discovers his face has become disturbingly symmetrical, and his hair is now lush and dark—not a grey in sight. His nose is still on the larger side, but his many wrinkles are mostly gone, save for a few at the corners of his eyes.

Severus frowns, turning his head from side to side. Honestly, he doesn’t know what to make of his newfound appearance.

Lowering the mirror, he gazes at Harry. “Do you…like it?”

Harry glances away, then shrugs his shoulders. “I like _you_ …” Inhaling a deep breath, he looks directly into Severus’ eyes. “A lot.” Harry swallows. “Severus, I have to admit something… I’ve fallen for you—hard.” He smiles softly. “I love you. I loved you before this, and I continue to love you after.”

While Severus’ heart pounds beneath his ribs, he debates whether or not he should cast a Pinch Hex on himself to prove he isn’t dreaming.

With a smitten grin on his face, Harry gently takes Severus’ right hand in his.

Severus shuts his eyes. Harry’s touch feels so warm and loving and _real_.

“I too care for you,” Severus says slightly above a whisper. “Immensely.” His eyes start to burn from his overwhelming emotion.

All this time, it’s been Harry.

His nearby presence is likely the reason why Severus has lived as long as he has. When he was almost mauled by a werewolf for the second time—Harry had been there. When he was almost murdered by the Dark Lord—Harry had been there. Even why his dates with Draco went so smoothly now makes sense—Harry had been there, too.

Bubbling laughter builds inside Severus until he can’t contain it any longer, and he begins to chuckle.

The longer he laughs, the more worried Harry appears.

After a few more seconds of basking in his joy, Severus calms down and pats Harry's shoulder. "I'm fine. More than fine."

With a shadow of a smile on his lips, Severus says, “It seems your presence didn't always keep my bad luck at bay; the potion must have been defective since it matched me with a Slytherin.”

Harry turns bright red. “Er, actually, now that I think about it, the Sorting Hat _did_ want to put me in Slytherin, but…I asked it not to.”

Severus snorts. “Of course you did,” he says wryly.

Harry opens his mouth to speak, but Severus stops him with another kiss.

Again, Severus is completely consumed by him. Kissing Harry. Simply kissing him is an activity he could do for hours.

But just kissing wouldn't do. No, he wants more. So much more.

Severus and Harry are soon desperately attacking one another. With every urgent step and wand wave, Severus relishes in the pleasure of more and more articles of clothing disappearing, revealing smooth, touchable skin.

Their journey towards the bedroom is mostly a blur; Severus is too enthralled with Harry’s intoxicating taste and heat and delicious moans.

Taking another step backwards, Severus’ left leg bumps into something. He has less than a second to realise it’s the bed before Harry pushes him onto it.

Severus gasps and clenches his wand harder when Harry crawls onto his nude body.

“Severus,” Harry says softly, gazing down at him and his many scars.

In the past, others barely tolerated or openly sneered at his scars, but now, Harry is regarding them with reverence. He bends down to lick and kiss the web of shiny lines crisscrossing his chest; he worships the cigarette burns on his arms, and then he sucks the thick scarring on his neck.

Severus can sense little of what Harry is doing because of his traumatised nerve endings. It seems over the course of the war, as his mind was required to grow number, so too did his body. But what Severus currently feels in his heart far surpasses any physical pleasure he could ever experience.

After placing his wand out of the way, Severus grasps Harry’s shoulders and encourages him to lie down on his back.

Severus takes a few moments to admire the definition of Harry’s chest and stomach, his muscled arms and thighs, and his thick, generous cock. He becomes entranced by a bead of pre-cum as it dribbles past Harry’s glans and foreskin.

Harry sharply inhales when Severus licks the salty drop away; he then moans when Severus’ mouth engulfs the head of his member.

Severus is out of practice; it’s been so many years. But it doesn’t take him long to remember, and soon Harry’s cock is plunging deep into his throat with ease.

Groaning, Harry grips a handful of Severus’ hair. “Severus, I’m getting close.” His breath hitches. “Oh, Merlin… I’m-I’m going to come. I’m—”

Severus stops and quickly grips the base of Harry’s length.

Harry whimpers, then curses.

Severus smirks down at him, causing Harry to narrow his eyes.

Before Severus can tease him more, Harry scrambles for his wand. While giving Severus a seductive smile, he spreads his legs wider to fully display himself. He then eases the wand tip into his tight hole, exhaling a soft moan. “ _Libido_.”

Harry gasps at the sensation of his arse being cleaned, then filled with warm lubrication.

He sets aside his wand before reaching for Severus. Harry then gently brings their lips together, sliding his hands up and down Severus’ back.

Harry sighs in bliss and caresses Severus’ cheek. “Severus, make love to me.”

Severus’ mouth suddenly goes dry.

Severus has had sex—lots of it. He's had sex with men, and he’s had sex with women; he’s even participated in a number of depraved orgies.

But he’s never made love.

Swallowing hard, Severus positions his member against Harry’s opening. He looks up, and Harry’s lust-filled expression reignites his own desire.

Unable to wait another second, Severus eases himself into Harry’s slick heat.

The instant he's fully sheathed, he and Harry share a moan. Severus takes a moment to appreciate Harry’s walls gripping him, how he’s tightening his legs around Severus’ waist, desperate for him to move.

Bracing his hands on Harry’s hips, Severus slides almost completely out, then thrusts true.

Harry arches his back in pleasure. “Fuck!”

Harry’s exclamation goes straight to Severus’ bollocks. Gripping Harry harder, Severus pounds into him again—and then again. He delights in the sound of skin unceasingly slapping against skin, of Harry’s heels digging into his arse cheeks as he begs for “more” and “deeper.”

Through heavy lids, Severus gazes down at Harry’s flushed face. “You’re stunning,” he says, almost unable to believe what’s happening isn’t merely a dream.

Harry drags him to his lips. Kissing Severus messily, Harry whimpers and then begins to pant more shallowly.

“Severus… I’m close… I’m going to come. I’m going to—” Suddenly, Harry’s mouth falls open, and his nails dig into Severus’ back. “Fuck! I’m coming! Severus… I'm coming…”

Hearing Harry’s sweet gasps, feeling Harry’s cum fountain against his stomach, Severus’ balls tighten and tighten until finally—release.

Exquisite sensation crashes through Severus, utterly destroying him. Every thought in his head escapes him; he can only feel and moan as he helplessly falls into his pleasure.

After the last of their strong pulses have passed, Severus and Harry don’t separate; instead, they breathlessly cling to one another.

Severus lifts his head to see Harry’s sated face. He bends down and places a tender kiss on his cheek. Then, barely audible, he whispers, “I love you,” next to Harry’s ear.

Severus didn’t have to say it; Harry must already know how he feels since their kiss, a true-love kiss, successfully broke the curse. But Severus had this unexplainable need to make what he felt for Harry more real; he had to hear those three short words with his own voice.

With equal parts amazement and joy, Harry gazes into Severus’ eyes. “I love you, too”—he places a tender peck on Severus’ mouth, then grins—“soulmate.”

Hearing those words, knowing them to be true, it’s almost too much. Severus crushes his lips against Harry’s once more.

Moaning, Harry readily opens for him.

As Severus feasts on Harry’s mouth, he silently promises that he will do everything in his power to ensure Harry hears those important three words from him at least once every day.

Harry eradicated the Dark Lord’s soul bit by bit. But for Severus, he’s done the exact opposite. Now, for the first time in his life, Severus’ soul feels whole.

* * *

Lowering the letter in his hand, Harry snorts. “Ron won’t be coming tonight.”

“He won't? That’s a shame,” Severus says, not at all sounding disappointed.

Harry rolls his eyes and hands Severus the letter to read for himself.

Since he and Severus officially became a couple, they and many of their best mates have regularly been meeting on Friday evenings for drinks. Most everyone had been supportive—except for Draco. No, he’d been a real arse. That was until Hermione introduced him to her sweet friend Astoria Greengrass, whom she met while further researching blood curses.

With Ron's cancellation joining Luna's, Draco's, and Astoria's, it seems the novelty of their relationship has finally started to taper off, thank Merlin.

Harry gazes at Severus and smiles at the resulting warmth he feels in his chest.

As he moves to embrace him, Harry’s fireplace flares green. In it materialises Hermione wearing a flattering red V-neck blouse and form-fitting jeans. She usually doesn’t bother to change out of her work robes.

“Hermione, you don't look like you’re about to share a pint at the Three Broomsticks." Harry smiles. “But you do look lovely.”

Hermione blushes demurely. “Thank you, Harry. I wasn’t sure whether or not I’d be coming until about an hour ago, and you know how I hate cancelling at the last minute. But”—she grins—“I’ve decided to go out on a date! I couldn’t very well be a hypocrite and not take my own advice, so I’m trying out a match recommended by Promnestria’s.

“I know he’s about my age. He enjoys lively debates about current events and mental challenges. He believes in the importance of family and friends. _And_ he has a developing interest in the Muggle world. That’s where we’re going to have our first date—at a cinema. We’re going to watch a film called _How to Train Your Dragon_. A very fitting Muggle movie for a pair of wizard folk, don’t you agree?” She glances at the wall clock and gasps. “I need to run. Wish me luck!”

“Er… Good luck.”

Hermione gives Harry a quick hug and then waves goodbye to Severus before throwing a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace.

Once Hermione has disappeared from sight, Harry chuckles and looks at Severus. “She has no idea that it’s Ron, does she?”

Severus grins in return. “Not a clue.”

**The End**

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are always welcome! ♥
> 
> If you enjoyed this story, browse my other [works](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofsilverdawn/works).
> 
> Cross-posted on [LiveJournal](https://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3892534.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1821696.html), and [Dreamwidth](https://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/1149874.html).
> 
> Additional Note: Arter Trophy is an anagram of Harry Potter.


End file.
